


burn like a beacon

by Suicix



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Injury, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no good time for an injury, but Wade's happens at the worst possible time.</p>
<p>Set post-Smackdown taping 24th June 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	burn like a beacon

**Author's Note:**

> so even though thinking about june 2014 makes me so very sad i keep writing fic about it??? i have a lot of feelings, that's all. i'm pretty sure that if wade hadn't got injured back then i'd still be keeping up properly with wwe/wouldn't have stopped watching after summer 2014.
> 
> i put the date of the smackdown taping in the summary rather than the date the show actually aired because ??? idk but it felt better. plus when i write fic i do tend to acknowledge that smackdown is on a tuesday/taped, so.

Heath’s back at Wade’s side as soon as he can be, as soon as he’s allowed to be. It’s havoc in the trainer’s room what with everybody bustling around and seeing to Wade’s shoulder, but eventually it’s just the two of them.

Silence is uncommon for him, but now he sits in it, beside Wade on the bed, fidgeting a little but careful not to do anything that would get in the way of Wade’s shoulder.

“I still can’t believe this,” he eventually bursts out, mostly just to _say_ something because he can’t take much more of the quiet. “All of this. This whole goddamn month.”

Wade just shakes his head, as if he can’t quite believe it either. His expression still hasn’t changed from the frown that’s been there all the while Heath’s been in here.

“I know.” His voice is dark, gloomy – nothing like he’d sounded when they’d woken up today, or even when they’d arrived at the arena. “Just one disaster after the next.”

Heath knows what Wade’s referring to. It’s not something he particularly wants to think about, but it’s impossible not to when he’s out there on his own for his matches now, nobody there beside him when he looks, when he expects there to be.

“Hey,” he says, hand settling on Wade’s thigh. “You’re the one with the injury. I should be the one comforting you.”

“It’s OK,” Wade tells him. “A lot’s been happening these past few weeks. You’re allowed to be upset. To like, get your emotions out there. It’s better than me sulking, isn’t it?”

Heath guesses it is. If something goes wrong, he needs to talk about how he feels, needs to let everything out so it doesn’t end up swallowing him whole. Wade, on the other hand, prefers to forget, prefers to take his mind off the bad things and pretend they’re not there, using bravado to hide them. Heath doesn’t like to think about how having an injured arm is going to make that difficult.

“I just... I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you here. Kinda terrifying, honestly.”

“You can do it. I’ve been gone before. It’ll just be like it was late last year,” Wade offers, but Heath shakes his head because it _won’t_ be.

“You weren’t hurt back then, though. And I wasn’t on my own like I’m gonna be now ‘cause I had–” He has to stop there because even just thinking about it has his heart sinking and stopping, because he can hardly even let it so much as cross his mind without feeling sad and angry and pathetic. “–had a team,” he manages to get out after a moment.

“It’ll be like the year before, then,” says Wade. “When I broke my arm. Or someone else broke my arm for me. Just hopefully not for as long.”

Heath nods in agreement; that span of six months or so was torturous. By the end of it things were better than they’d been at the start: Wade had returned and it was the beginning of things with Drew and Jinder, and Heath was so, so excited about everything.

Fast forward to now, and he’s lost that stability all over again. Lost even more, because he didn’t quite have it before.

“How long do they think you’ll be out for, anyway?” he asks.

“It’s hard to say. There is the possibility of it not being that serious, of not even missing Money in the Bank this weekend, but...” Wade trails off. He’s not exactly an optimist, so he’s probably finding that pretty hard to believe. Heath wants to try, just because that’s who he is, but with how everything seems to work out for Wade, how everything’s working out for them both right now, thinking that way is probably going to hurt even more.

They’re quiet after that. Neither of them wants to say anything that could make them feel worse, that could have them sinking even lower and lower, so low that there’s no easy way back up.

“Christ,” Wade says suddenly, and the sharp interruption of the silence has Heath turning to look at him. “They might take away my title if I have to be out for ages.”

Heath glances to the Intercontinental Championship belt sitting with the rest of Wade’s things. He never even thought about that. Now, it’s making everything just that bit worse. Wade worked so hard to get back to this again, and it could be all ripped away from him at someone else’s fault.

“Why’s it always you this happens to? Back in 2012, again now... and it’s always like, some freak accident. Always someone else’s fault. Never you. It’s not – it’s just not _fair_.” He must sound like a kid, he knows he does, but it just can’t be helped. It’s _not_ fair. There’s no other way to put it.

Wade shrugs, eyes faraway and just about dead. “I don’t know. Bad luck, I suppose. None of it would happen if I worked with you, I know it wouldn’t. You’re safe. You keep your opponents safe. Other people don’t seem to think that’s something worth keeping in mind.” His voice raises on the last sentence. Heath reaches out a hand to Wade’s uninjured arm in an attempt to relax him. Immediately, Wade is a little less tense.

Or, his body is, anyway.

“But there’s not much I think I can do,” he continues. “Other than just waiting to hear how bad it is, and then having surgery and hoping that goes well.”

“Hey, you don’t know you need surgery. All we know is that you won’t be hitting anyone with that elbow now your shoulder’s messed up,” Heath remarks. “God, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t be reminding you that you’re gonna be gone.”

Wade doesn’t comment on that when he next speaks, but his eyes seem to darken at the reminder all the same.

“Just – just do the best you can, yeah?” he says. It sounds like he’s trying to keep the sudden darkness in his eyes out of his voice. “The best you can with what you’re given.”

Heath tries for a smile, though it doesn’t feel real. _The best with what he’s given_. It’s all he’s ever done.


End file.
